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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065682">Absolute Domain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BOTcommander/pseuds/BOTcommander'>BOTcommander</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Project Wingman (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, F/M, Fighter Pilots, Serious But Not Serious, Work In Progress, ending expansion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BOTcommander/pseuds/BOTcommander</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been four months since the destruction of Presidia, four months since the end of the cascadian war for independence. Many try to look forward, focusing on life, on rebuilding, but the war has left its marks on some who don't want to forget. One of them is a captain as legendary as they can be, a captain planning for the salvation of the whole world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Comic/Diplomat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chad Woodward stood at Presidias shore and listened to the waves washing against the sand. They made a rhythmic, calming sound, one that reminded him of better days. He opened his eyes and looked out to the sea, to the barely visible wreck of the Eminent Domain, just a few meters above the water. The sight caused him to instinctively cough. Even after four months the injuries breathing cordium heavy air had caused had not vanished and Woodward often found himself short of breath and suffering from attacks such as this.</p><p> </p><p>The coughing did not stop and he quickly removed his filter mask, gripped to his right and put the oxygen mask up to his face. Two breaths in his lungs had calmed down and, putting on the filters mask again, he looked towards the place of his greatest failure.</p><p> </p><p>Two hundred of his bravest men and women had died there that day. People he had known since before the war, who had trusted him to lead their country to victory. He could have done it, until the dust mother forsaken Federation had ruined everything. Turning right, he laid eyes upon the corpse of Presidia. The capital, once the jewel of Cascadia, was now nothing more than smoldering ruins. Even from here he could still see the zones of active cordium gleaming in the distance, filling the air with tiny, hot particles that would cook a man from the inside.</p><p> </p><p>Woodward would wait no longer. He had a plan, people to help him execute it and he knew of the ship he needed.  The greatest ship ever built by man. The Federation would burn and no one would be able to stop them.</p><p> </p><p>He listened to the sound of footsteps on loose sand coming closer, but he did not turn around.</p><p> </p><p>“Captain”, the voice of Commander Anton Evered would never be as it was before Presidia. Cordium had damaged his vocal cords. His voice was rough and strained, as if he had been smoking all his life. “We must go, the CIF will notice our absence soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“I made sure they will.” He turned around, to see the man he trusted most in the eyes. “I just wanted to see them one last time.”</p><p> </p><p>“We will avenge them, Captain, all of them. Their sacrifices shall not be in vain.”</p><p> </p><p>Woodward's face became somber. “Evered, are you sure you want to do this? You have family. Don’t follow an old man with nothing left to lose to his death.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Evered put his hand on his captain’s shoulder. “We will follow you to the end. This is bigger than all of us.”</p><p> </p><p>Woodward smiled and walked towards the chopper on standby on the beach behind. “Then let the final act begin.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>----</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Monarch was enjoying his downtime by being lazy reading a book in one of the prospero airfields unused rooms. The couch he was lazily lying on was stolen from the base's lounge, as was the minifridge to his left including its contents. But being the man who won the CIF the war and the first member and leader of the, as of yet not officially established, cascadian “peacekeeper” squadron had its advantages. The CIF was still brainstorming a name to avoid association with the Federations own brand of elite fighter squadrons, but so far with no luck.</p><p> </p><p>Cristian Scherer was his name now. A new identity provided to him by the CIF for fulfilling the deal. He neither liked or disliked it, but “Mr. Scherer” sounded weird. After years of working with Sicario he was too used to Monarch being the name he was called by. He often doubted how well his new identity even worked. His identity was an open secret. Who else could be the mystery ace the CIF had dug up after the end of their civil war.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he was about to turn the page of his romance novel the door flung open. Monarch identified the tall, gruffy looking man immediately, but the energy he gave off was serious. Monarch’s brain rattled as he tried to think for reasons why his commander was here now, during his break.</p><p> </p><p>“Mon…”, Galaxy fought himself for a moment, before regaining his composure. “Ah fuck it. Monarch, Frenken wants to see all available officers now.”</p><p> </p><p>Right, he was now officially part of the CIF and a Major as well. The fact tended to slip Monarchs mind once or twice a day, but he understood the duties of the job well enough. Without complaint he closed his book, putting it in the front pocket of his jacket before jumping up and to attention, giving Galaxy a sarcastic salute.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t push your luck.” The tone was serious, but Monarch could see Galaxy was trying to suppress a smile. “Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>As they walked through the corridors, Monarch gave Galaxy a questioning look. The former AWAC operator, now commander of the base's air forces, could almost feel the ace's sharp eyes on him, probing him for information, as if he could extract whatever he desired that way. Leaning over Galaxy  whispered into his ear: “Woodward has gone AWOL.”</p><p> </p><p>The shocked expression on Monarchs face was worth the extra work the tight-lipped pilot gave him. Galaxy, satisfied with himself, led them to his office, a small room on the west side of the base. The window shutters were closed and a projector was projecting Kaiser’s grumpy looking face onto the wall. It seemed like everyone aside from them was already present, even Legion sat, bored and sleep-deprived looking as always, on one of the chairs. As he scanned the room for free chairs, his eyes fell on the familiar visage of Prez, who nodded to the empty chair next to her on which he sat down, glad someone he would not need to stand.</p><p><em> “Is everyone here?” </em>, asked Kaiser. The king of the mercenaries had looked better. The bags under his eyes only seemed to get larger and more defined with time, as did the stubble on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sir.”, answered Galaxy before he too sat down.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “What I am about to tell you is top secret. This morning I found a letter from our dear Admiral Woodward on my desk. A letter in which he declared that he would and I quote: ‘Burn the federation core down to the mantle’. Investigation by military police found that several active service members from all branches have been reported missing as of today, so we must assume that we have a mutiny on our hands.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“If I had known about it I would have joined him”, a CIF officer exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, fuck the feds”, another chimed in and approving mumbling filled the room, which Kaiser ignored.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “That has been all, keep alert until we have more information. Dismissed.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Monarch felt Prez’s anxiousness besides him, but she remained silent. Looking at her, he spotted tears running down her cheeks. In the cover of darkness he slipped one of her hands into his and squeezed it reassuringly. </p><p> </p><p>Galaxy deactivated the projector and opened the blinds, while the people around them got up. As the room emptied and everyone returned to their posts the mechanic dragged Monarch outside and into a nearby storeroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, I am not sure…”, he began, thinking he was misinterpreting the situation, but before he could finish asking. Prez collapsed into his arms, wailing like he never seen her do so before. Out of reflex more than anything else he began hugging her, not understanding what was happening.</p><p> </p><p>“Dismissed, just like that?”, she could finally say after a few minutes, her voice sniffly and weak.</p><p> </p><p>“Prez, what is happening? Did I do something?”</p><p> </p><p>“No Monarch, you did nothing wrong. It's just...CIF people disappear, Woodward threatens to burn the Federation down and the Cascadians do nothing. Hell, most of the guys in the room would join in if they could.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder why I was not recruited”, he asked himself. “Maybe they don't need a pilot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Monarch!”, she hissed accusingly, face contorted in rage, before it calmed again. “You remember I am...was a Federation citizen and still have family there.”</p><p> </p><p>A lightbulb went up in Monarchs head. “Oh, I guess we better try to get them out of there.”</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his chin. “We are going to need a transport plane. We could fly over Sawaiiki, make a stop there. The Federation’s anti air perimeter could be a problem, but I should be able to disable it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I was talking about, idiot.”, the last word was more endearing than meant to hurt. “I mean I know that the people living there are just...people. Families trying to live their lives, raise their kids and make the best of the situation. Do they deserve to die, just because the state they live in has committed atrocities?”</p><p> </p><p>Monarch shrugged. “They have allowed their government to commit these atrocities and...ouch.”</p><p> </p><p>The punch to his shoulder was not meant to hurt, but it still did...on an emotional level. “What was that for.”</p><p> </p><p>“I only learned of the feds' atrocities after I left. You know how they operate: control the information. I doubt many know of Presidia and Prospero with their Watchdog-protocol scouring the net. The Federation is a rotten piece of shit of an organisation and I will help the CIF destroy it, but the people do not deserve to die.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what do we do?”</p><p> </p><p>“More than nothing”, Prez smirked, wiping away the tears. “But first we are going to need allies and information.”</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p></div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The road before him was an empty line of concrete stretching towards the horizon. Monarch allowed himself to look to the side and watch the evergreen trees as he drove by them. Tall and strong, they were called cascadias soul by some, representing the nation's enduring nature.</p><p> </p><p>He turned his head forward again and concentrated on the road again. None of his superiors would ever forgive him for trashing another vehicle. Prez especially would not, since this was her car, with which she had sent him on this critical mission. He did not know what allies he was going to meet by the address she had told him, just that he would need to try and recruit them.</p><p> </p><p>Driving gave him time to think about what she had told him. Monarch tried to imagine what living in the Federation must have been like for her: the gangs, the cordium storms, the military police. She had only really started opening up about herself and her childhood after the Presidia Incident. After he had fought and defeated the crimson peacekeeper.</p><p> </p><p>His hands grabbed the steering wheel a little tighter as his mind went through the memories of that cursed battle again, the city glowing orange beneath them. Monarch pulls every trick in his book, pushing himself to his limits, to overcome Crimson One’s advantage in technology. </p><p> </p><p>It had almost not been enough.</p><p> </p><p>Monarch did not try to push these feelings aside, not this time. They gave him a reference point from which to compare to. Seeing the place of his birth and youth annihilated in an instant by a madman only focused on destruction had caused him immeasurable distress, one that he was unable to express with words. Would others feel the same way seeing the cities of the Federation Core burn like that? If yes, should he try to stop it? His end goal was to destroy the Federation, but nation-states had fallen in a variety of ways in known human history since the Long Cold.</p><p> </p><p>The train of thought kept him going until he had reached the address. Stepping out of the car he laid upon the large, wooden house atop a nearby hill and wondered who would build a place like this in the middle of nowhere. </p><p> </p><p>Making sure the car was appropriately locked and secured, he made his way upwards towards the small house. No names were written on a small plaque next to the bell. Monarch frowned, unable to think who could live here and how they could help him and Prez, but he pressed the bell nevertheless.</p><p> </p><p>A woman came to the door and opened him after a few moments. She wore a dress and had her hair different than Monarch was used to, but he recognized her immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi Comic”, he greeted his old wingwoman. “Nice to see you.”</p><p> </p><p>Comic had her eyes wide open and looked as if Monarch had suddenly turned into the butterfly of the same name before she opened her mouth to respond.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Robin, for the last time, I don’t know what Woodward is planning.”, Galaxy groaned, desk filled with unfinished paperwork that was part of his new job and identity.</p><p> </p><p>“Bullshit Dominic”, she slammed both hands on his desk. “You are basically Kaiser Junior. Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Even if I did I would not tell you”, he smiled at her, demonstratively concentrating on signing paperwork. Prez sighed, taking a deep breath before she grabbed his shoulder, forcing his body back into the chair without much effort.</p><p> </p><p>“Galaxy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Prez.”</p><p> </p><p>“Remember over Rowsdower, when Monarch saved all of our fucking lives.”</p><p> </p><p>“Believe me, not a single day passes on which I don’t pray to the dust mother for our lord and savior that is your precious butterfly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop being sarcastic”, she tightened her grip around his shoulder, causing him to flinch. “You owe Monarch. I am here to collect that favor.”</p><p> </p><p>Galaxy raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have it on paper.”</p><p> </p><p>His smile dropped. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep”, Prez withdrew a laminated sheet of paper, put it down on the table. “‘I give Prez permission to cash in the favors owed to me in extreme situations, ' signed Monarch”, she read out aloud.</p><p> </p><p>Galaxy looked at her questioningly. “You know, does he know ‘Prez’ is not your name?”</p><p> </p><p>Robin wanted to respond, but her line of thought came up empty, frowning as she tried to find an answer to the question before she decided she could deal with that later.</p><p> </p><p>“No changing the subject.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” The sigh coming out of his mouth sounded like his soul had escaped with it. “Ever heard of the <em> Absolute Domain </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Letting go of his shoulder she sat down on a chair behind her hair. “Wasn't that the battleship Woodward stole?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, that was the <em> Eminent Domain </em> . The  <em> Absolute Domain  </em>is some kind of experimental ship that was supposed to serve as the flagship of the Federation fleet. Kaiser had plans to steal it for the CIF, but that plan is on ice now that Woodward has gone rouge.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Woodward likely plans to use the ship to burn down the Federation. The CIF has to stay as far away from it as possible to avoid any political fallout. Setting us up to be the aggressor won't help us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t we…”</p><p> </p><p>“No, we can’t. We are talking about Woodward here. Most likely is that he has considered every action we could take and found a way to include them into his plans.” Galaxy shrugged defeatedly.</p><p> </p><p>Prez was still not convinced. “I know just the guy to beat impossible odds.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I won’t allow the greatest asset the CIF currently has to be deployed for this and that will be my last word. I need to do paperwork. You are dismissed, Captain.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Captain?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm”, Woodward only awoke slowly from his nap, rubbing his eyes and removing his oxygen mask. “What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“We are in position.”, reported Evered.</p><p> </p><p>“Good”, Woodward gave his first officer a predatory smile as he got up and walked out of the temporary shelter they had set up in. So far up north, the air was icy cold and the wind only made it worse. Frozen snow cracked under their steps. “Now we just need to wait for the crown to make his appearance.”</p><p> </p><p>“You believe he will show up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. Are you doubting me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Never.” </p><p> </p><p>Both of them stopped at a walkway that followed the coast, looking out at the <em> Atlant  </em>swim dock a few kilometres away.</p><p> </p><p>“But a lot of our plan hinges on a single man.”</p><p> </p><p>“While his abilities are impressive, he is just a human just like everyone else. Manipulable, once you know what motivates him. It will all happen according to the plan, once the agent has deployed the Intel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><div><p> </p>
<p></p></div><div>
<p></p></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I should be able to do a five-day rhythm with the releases of new chapters. Let's see if I manage to balance the silly and the serious. English is not my first language, so sorry if the nuances its grammar are lost to me. Other than that, have a nice day.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Monarch let the warm teacup warm his hands, waiting another minute before he took a careful sip. Looking up he saw his two former wingmen stare at him from across the small, wooden table. They both looked so...different. Comic had her hair open, instead of the usual ponytail, and Dip had grown a beard in the last four months. Monarch thought if he should try growing one too?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His internal evaluation of this possibility was cut short by Dip breaking the silence. “It's nice to see you man if a little surprising. But you still have not told us why you are here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prez told me to go here, she lent me her car. It needs new oil by the way. I need to remind her of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Comic sighed. “Yeah, you told us that already. What were you trying to recruit us for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She wants to stop Woodward from destroying the Federation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a noble cause.” The comment earned Dip an angry stare from Comic and he fell silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch played with the now empty cup in his hands. “I don’t know yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is there to think about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Federation must be destroyed, but a conventional war would be costly for all sides. The Crystal Kingdom has opened the gates of hell. The option of deploying cordium weapons is suddenly a lot more attractive now that the feds have fired the first shot.” He put down the cup. “Every option I think about will result in war.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How thoughtful”, Dip remarked, rubbing his beard. “By the way, you talk more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do.”, He threw his old friend a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Comic rolled her eyes, refilling Monarch's cup from a pot. The Ace used the short break in the conversation to have a closer look around. The wood on the outside of the house seemed to be decorative only, the inside walls were modern: white walls and chrome decorative elements. Lots of natural light shone insight through large glass windows on the south side of the building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” said Dip, who took a wistful look around. “This used to be my family's summer house, it's not like they have much use for it now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are all dead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He only got a nod as an answer. Comic sat down next to Dip and took one of his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry by the way for just leaving”, she added. “We just wanted to get away from it all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please”, Monarch took another sip. “Don’t apologize.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you say so, but what would you need us for anyhow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assume stopping Woodward will include me flying a plane”, Monarch sighed, looking his two best friends in the eyes. “And I could really need Hitman Two and Three.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Monarch, be honest”, she tilted her head. “Do you even need us? Dust Mother, you destroyed that prototype in a fucking F/D-14.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys always had my back, but I won't force it. From what I understood you seem to be pretty happy with civilian life.”, he put down the cup, before getting up. “Thanks for the tea, but I will go now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to visit and we will think about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them followed Monarch to the door, looking after him as he returned the road he had come from. As soon as he had disappeared out of their immediate view, Evelyn threw Peter an angry glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How. The. Fuck. Does Prez know our address?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, in my defense”, Peter argued as they returned inside. “I might have thought leaving just like that might have been a little unfair and I might have sent a letter to Robin with our address for ‘emergencies’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>back inside Comic jumped onto the couch in the living room. “What happened to leaving it all behind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Change of mind.”, he laid down beside Evelyn, snuggling up to her. “I realized I missed them. Hell, we knew Monarch for ten years. He is the closest thing I have to a best friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He removed a wild strain of hair from her face and gave her a peck on the forehead. “I love you Eve and I want to make this work, but I don't think running away from our past is the right thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, moving closer into his embrace. “Maybe you’re right. How was he, you know him better than I do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was...different, but something is bothering him, a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should shit really hit the fan, we should help them. We owe them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two simply laid there for a while, enjoying each other's company, while the sun went down, casting the room in bright orange color.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“50 bucks Monarch and Robin are an item”, he bet. Comic did her best, but she could not help but laugh a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Monarch was back at the airbase, he found Prez in front of the computer in her office, sleeping. Apparently, she had been researching public records of federation shipyards in Magadan, before she had dozed off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hauling her frame over his shoulder like a bag of flour, he carried her through the base and into an empty room in the barracks, making sure she was properly covered by her blanket before leaving, making way to his “break” room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was just about to flop down on the stolen couch when he spotted a letter that had been slid into the room under the door. Curious he picked it up and opened it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch's eyes went wide as he saw the contents, quickly making sure he was alone before locking the door behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brain had immediately made the connection, when he saw what it was about: Experimental Federation Swim Dock Facility 5 </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Atlant”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, north of Madagan in the polar sea. Current project constructed: Supercarrier </span>
  <em>
    <span>Absolute Domain. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Prez must have managed to get some info on Woodward's target, but who could have been the mystery source of this piece of intel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needed to wake Prez, talk to her...no. He needed to remind himself, no matter how great a mechanic she was, she was at the end of the day expandable. She could not allow herself to be part of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch understood he was close to untouchable. He was the type of pilot that made conventional military tactics and doctrine worthless wherever he was. At worst he would get a light slap on the wrist for whatever stupid shit he was about to pull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hurried down into the hangar, through its back entrance, and into the supply bunker for ammunition past the guard, who had learned better than to try and stop him, greeting him with a nod as passed by. There was a large, armored, number-locked container. Monarch had once accidentally uncovered a 10-digit number code on Galaxy’s desk and spent two weeks trying to find out what is for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The container opened, revealing the carefully racked up and stored cordium bombs. Using a nearby transport cart, he dragged the destructive weapon back into the hangar and speedily attached it onto the hardpoint in the central bomb compartment of his jet. Satisfied with his work he cleaned up after himself and climbed into the cockpit, snuggling into the padded seat before he fell asleep.</span>
</p>

<p></p><div>
<p></p></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the slight delay</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Prez was mercilessly awoken by the alarm of her wristwatch. Half asleep and in an attempt to make the annoying sound go away, she tried to make it go away, not realizing the source was attached to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sudden impact onto the floor, after she had managed to rotate out of the bed, brought her fully back into the world of the living. For a minute she laid there, her brain trying to connect the memories from yesterday with her current situation: Where she was? How did she get here? Satisfied with the conclusion that she had no idea, she got up and made her way back into her office, finding her secretary already present and at work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right, the fact that “Captain Arie Koljin” had a secretary was one of the weirder facts about her new life. Prez's eyes wandered to the nameplate on her desk displaying the new and still unfamiliar name, finding the situation still feeling unreal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She dropped into her chair and began her work. After accepting Galaxy’s offer for her current position, she had learned quickly that being the “chief mechanic” meant a lot more delegating and paperwork than actually doing any mechanicing. While happy to no longer rely on the periphery black markets for engine parts, the new and unfamiliar regulations now made her life actively worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain”, the voice of her secretary disturbed her a few hours later. “It is 1:45 pm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Major Scherer is about to begin his patrol duty”, he elaborated. “You wanted to be reminded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right, thank you. If I get any calls, I am out for a break.” She jumped up, grabbing her jacket off the chair before she made her way to the hangars. After flashing her ID to the guard at the entrance, she entered the concrete bunker in which the Starlight prototype was stored away, spotting Monarch standing by the plane in the distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain, if you have a moment.”, one of the techs approached her as she made her way towards the Starlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it Chief?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When we wanted to make the pre-flight checks for the prototype, Major Scherer had already finished the checklist and was very adamant about us not doing it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez sighed. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Major </span>
  </em>
  <span>can be very stubborn. Was the data within acceptable parameters?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The engine only shows green values.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then it should be okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She raised a hand to stop him. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Major </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows the plane as well as every one of us. I trust his judgment to a certain extent. Record it and ready the plane for take-off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Halfway through the hangar, Prez put on the filter mask that was constantly fastened to her belt. At rest, the experimental cordium engine had a relatively low particle dispersion, but the long-term effects were still terrible, even with relatively low concentration. Monarch, already wearing the full gear, face hidden behind the shiny helmet visor she was so used to. He had been wearing the damn thing way too much back in the day and she was glad he had opened himself up more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chris</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch stopped dead in his tracks and for a moment Prez could watch the gears in his helmeted head turn and work, as his brain tried to figure out the connection. While the man had some amazing qualities in other areas he was, to be frank, a complete idiot. A fact that made him all the more endearing somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heyy…...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He stopped checking the hardpoints under the wings. “Did you...ehm...sleep alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Necks a bit stiff, other than that I can’t complain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were trying to sleep in a chair.” Monarch stated, taking an interest in one of the missiles fasted to the left wing's hardpoints.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it was you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez rolled her eyes, but could not help but smile. “The one carried me to the barracks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was me.” He turned his head towards her, her own tired face reflected in the perfectly polished visor. With one hand she lifted up the visor until she could see his eyes, their color an unassuming brown, his gaze sharp and focused. After a moment of eye contact, he broke off, looking to the side, at the prototype.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish I was cleared for flight”, Prez commented, looking wistfully at the Starlight. The fight against the leader of Crimson squadron over Presidia had done a number on her. It had taken her two weeks in a hospital before she had fully recovered. Being the chief mechanic of the Starlight Project made it harder to justify why she should fly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a one-seater anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another reason to be sad.” She put one hand on the side of the plane, feeling the cool metal underneath. “How about we pull the old F/D-14 out of storage and fly a few rounds together like old times.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea”, he nodded. “We could do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A howling alarm from the bunker's sirens disrupted their conversation. Monarch closed his visor and began climbing into the Stardust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do anything stupid.”, she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch, the canopy already closing over him just gave her a thumbs up. The engine howled to life, intense warmth filling the bunker's interior, which she saw as her signal to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch sped over Cascadias landscape, enjoying the jets acceleration, the airspeed indicator climbing higher and higher, breaking 3500 km/h just as he had fully crossed the part of the pacific that divided the Cascadian island from the rest of the north american continent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Using the cordial engine blueprints of the PW Mk. 1, stolen by the CIF in a movie worthy raid on an Icarus Armories facility at the beginning of the war, the Starlight was supposed to be the default craft for the Cascadian airforce in some distant future, after the economy had recovered enough to justify spending for more than a handful of these planes. The revolutionary engine gave the design a theoretically unlimited range and weight/thrust ratios that were beyond anything that could be achieved regularly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch found it all to just be overly complicated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mechanic team had reworked his jet a total of three times by now, trying to configure it to his specifications. The first time he had set foot inside it had confused him. Everything had been so...new….and...simple, full of modern displays and blinking lights. Having flown old, decommissioned planes from black markets all his life that Prez and Sicarios techies somehow made airworthy, the first thing that went were the high-end HUD and cockpit displays. Then the controls felt wrong, so they cannibalized a spare F/D-14 to completely replace the cockpit, which finally satisfied him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From here he was supposed to turn south and follow the coast for a few hundred kilometers, but Monarch had other plans. Close to the ground, the Yellowstone exclusion zone still fucked with radar and radio.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning the plane on its head, he pulled the stick back so that its nose jumped downwards in an instant, the sudden change of direction pushed him into his seat so hard his vision blurred, but with a new, better plane, an AoA-limiter and no Prez in the backseat to worry about, he could pull a stunt like this no problem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pushing the throttle to max the jet shot downwards, the altimeter falling to 3000...2000...1000. At 500 he repeated the stunt, pulling the Starlight up a few hundred meters above ground, safely within the fumes of the volcanic fields below him. Just to be sure, he switched through the radio channels, satisfied when they only returned static.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Galaxy would be mad, Kaiser too, Prez...well, maybe...he was still unsure about that one. But if all went well, he would only be gone for about two hours at most, depending on how fast he was able to push the engine. Turning northwest he set course for the north Magadan coast.</span>
</p>

  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's with the chapters I had finished beforehand, next one could take a little longer, but not much more than a week.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Atlant Raid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Sir”, the radar operator tried to get the Takatau base commander's attention. “I got something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The commander stepped behind his subordinate, leaning forward to take a closer look at the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just picked up an unidentified contact in Magadan airspace”, the operator continued, zooming in on the tiny dot on the strategic map. “At first I thought it was a radar glitch, but it persisted and it moves at roughly Mach 3.5.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A stealth craft?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assume so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The commander sighed. “I swear…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shall I scramble interceptors?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two squadrons and ready the Splinter-system, I’m going to take this up the chain before we blast it out of the sky. If it’s Icarus testing their prototypes again, I am going to have an aneurism.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Monarch had first entered the snowstorm, he had been flying under the clouds, but he did not actually know if the engine could function in these conditions. Better to take the chances when he had reached the floating dock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From above the storm looked harmless. Fluffy white clouds, harmless and puffy as if directly taken from a children's book. Under the layer, however, he suspected the Dust Mother herself was causing the blizzard of the century, based on the weather reports he was getting, speaking just enough Magadon to recognize the words “storm” and “bad” from the radio broadcasts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He focused once more on the GPS, trying to gauge from the changing numbers if he was flying in the right direction when the green light to his right attracted his attention. Part of a fed comm unit Prez had bolted into his cockpit, the light lighted up when it detected activity on fed radio frequencies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time to listen in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Takatau Command, we are in the range of the unidentified aircraft. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Affirmative &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the voice froze the blood in Monarch's veins. It was the Federation ATC, the one that authorized the bombardment of Prospero. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Move into weapons range and force it to identify itself. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fear turned into anger, as his grip on the controls tick tightened. Why was that worthless piece of human garbage still alive. The Federation ATC should have been given to the Cascadian people as a sacrifice, been crucified, and carried through the streets for everyone to see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted his Interceptors to </span>
  <em>
    <span>force him to identify himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Well, they could try.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch turned his jet around with a high-g turn, speeding towards the interceptors, manually tagging them as hostile on his IFF: CR105s, ten of them. His thumb hovered over the missile release button. No, he would not need them. Acquiring them would warn them prematurely, he could do with the Starlights gun if he got close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Contact has turned around, showing no sign of aggression. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Tell it to resume course or it will be fired upon. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His radio came to life. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Attention, unidentified pilot, resume course and identify yourselves or we will be forced to shoot you down.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Very funny, Monarch grimaced, marking the front plane in his HUD, his course unchanged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Not changing course, opening fire. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The front plane set loose a singular missile. Easily evaded with a roll, it shot past him, target lost and harmless. Index finger on the trigger, he waited for the right moment, letting loose a short salvo that reverberated through the plane. The Starlight flew through the resulting explosion, before Monarch forced it around, already focused on the next target.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Answer Brownbear Actual, what is happening? &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; This is Brownbear Two, Actual has just been shot-Fuck he is on meAAAAAAH… &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch shot down Brownbear Two with another salvo, hitting the jet dead center. It broke apart in the middle, the two pieces tumbling to the ground burning and smoking. Monarch did not see it, he was already onto the others, switching from target to target, each one turned to burning wreckage after a short and one-sided chase.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&lt; We are being slaughtered here. &gt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; I cannot get a bearing on him. What’s up with that plane? &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Ejecting! &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Hold out. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> The ATC tried to keep the pilots calm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; We are scrambling every squadron we can, Indigo Team is on its way. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch gloated as he chased the last remaining federation pilot, enjoying his strained breathing. Let them send all the planes they want, send an airship fleet, they would only be added to the list of casualties once he was done. The pilot before him broke before he could end him, ejecting out of the completely functioning plane. He frowned, thinking about ending the parachuting pilot, before turning around towards his real destination. Time was running out now, the Starlights ammunition was limited, his ability to continue to fight linked to the counter in his cockpit that he was eyeing carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Atlant dock soon made itself known by the alarming sound of missile alerts in Monarch's ears and the LSAM missiles breaking through the clouds, having climbed their long way up to meet him. Monarch paid them not much mind, evading them with minimal maneuvers perfected during the last year, as he returned into the snowstorm below.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a minute he was blind, the clouds reducing the visibility to zero, the winds growing stronger as he declined. Then he broke through, seeing the Magadan coastline below, large floes of ice lying ashore on the beach. The storm was strong down here, snowflakes lashing against the canopy, but nothing he could not deal with. His eyes wandered to the horizon, where he spotted it, barely illuminated by the minimal light breaking through the dark clouds above: The Atlant Swim Dock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was massive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dock was easily two kilometers in length, floating in the rough sea like a leviathan from ancient times, unmoving and uncaring of the chaos around it. The leviathan bared its teeth, spewing forth anti-air ammunition at the man attempting to slay it. He wove between the streams of C-SAM ammunition, flak, and missiles that shot towards him, keeping him from approaching closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This would not do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To properly use the cordium freefall bomb hee would need a straight, high altitude line of approach, the current amount of air maneuvers would not do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Atlant, launch fighters now. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Operator, forget that order. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> A deep voice with a thick Magadan accent interjected. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; We would send the men to die. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; That is an order, Captain Krusjev &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Operator, ready the Domain for departure. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Opening flood gates. Absolute Domain will be ready for launch in 5 minutes. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Keep the plane away from us until then. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; We’ll do our best, but he is a slippery one. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Warning lights lit up all over the dock as one end of the dock slowly opened up, water rushing inside. Monarch readied the MLAAs with a simple button press, pulling the plane around and eyeballing what he assumed to be a fuel tank at the end of the facility. The missile flew forward, pushed forward by white-hot exhaust into the tank, which lit up with a colossal explosion, rocking the dock and illuminating in an orange-yellow flash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orange...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Presidia burned beneath him as he rolled to the side, flying a tight curve to avoid the plasma wall in front of him. Crimson One turned around, letting loose another swarm of rockets. Dozens of alarms filled his HUD, Monarch pulling up, deploying flares to lose the countless explosives on his tail. His vision blurred under the intense g-forces, his heart doing its best to work under the intense stress.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; How are the preparations coming along? &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; The cordium reactors are online and the power production looks stable. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Status of the dock. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Filled to 80%. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Good, I will oversee further proceedings from the Domain. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Good luck Captain. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More SAM installations went up in flames as Monarch flew another attack run. The board gun sent a stream of projectiles that punched large holes into the dock's roof. He pulled up, to avoid a pair of missiles before turning around and sending another missile into the fuel tank on the other side. It exploded, not igniting the fuel, Monarch sending another missile at it before climbing up to gain distance for another attack run. The explosion lit up the dark clouds above him, the shockwave catching up with the Starlight a second later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; This is Indigo One, we have reached the AO. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> The voice of a woman with an even heavier accent cut through the noise around him. &lt;</span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt; Team, don’t let that fucker get close and wait for further orders. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Standby for Splinter, ETA 90 seconds. &gt;&gt; The Federation ATC added. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Acknowledged. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch flew into a narrow gap between maintenance cranes, a missile obliterating the framework behind him as it hit a support strut. He curved right, pulling the trigger to light up another two SAM systems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Are you crazy? &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Atlant operator's voice sounded terrified. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; He is directly on top of us. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Evacuate everyone to the lower levels immediately. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch frowned, pulling up to fly above the clouds to get a better view. It was likely Indigo were waiting above the storm and he had no energy for whatever shit the feds were going to pull next. Blinded by the clouds he climbed up, watching the altimeter when the Starlight's system warned him of something approaching, fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His reflexes kicked in, pressing the flare button so hard it almost got stuck and pulling away, deeper into the heart of the storm, pushing the throttle to its max. The Starlight jumped forward, the alarm sound wailing up in his ears as <em>it</em> approached closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A thunderous explosion flashed behind him, illuminating the entire cloud. The sound was deafening and Monarch felt his jet be hit by something, the plane tumbling towards the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fought to get it back under control, the sea level coming uncomfortably close before he managed to pull up. His ears were still ringing, when he investigated the damage. The engine seemed okay, its sound was rhythmic and healthy and all displays were in the green. He noticed, however, as he turned his head, that an uncomfortably large piece of the left wing was missing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch's mind was racing as he went through his memories. Lining up the arrival of the mystery weapon with the federation comms. 90 seconds...what was this <em>splinter</em> weapon?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned the jet around back towards the dock, surprised to find it heavily damaged. Its roof was littered with an uncountable amount of small holes, illuminated by the two giant fuel fires burning at one of its ends. All its SAM systems were silent, possibly destroyed as collateral when the Splinter activated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Did we get him. &gt;&gt; The ATC asked tensely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; No &gt;&gt; Indigo One answered as casually as if she was ordering a sandwich.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Impossible, it's him. It can only be him. No normal human could survive being hit by the Splinter. &gt;&gt; Panic was starting to creep into his voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; He was in the clouds when it reached an effective distance, maybe the radar was impaired due to the heavy storm. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; It is the Crown, I want all available squadrons in the area to converge on his position, NOW. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Sir? &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Indigo, kill him, blow him out of the sky. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch only listened with half his attention to the conversation going on in the background, the majority of his attention focused on the dock before him. Its front gate was opening and the most colossal vessel he had ever laid eyes upon was gliding out onto the open sea. Uncaring of the destruction around it it black hull was unblemished, reflecting the orange light of the fires around it, the burning fuel having leaked onto the sea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Absolute Domain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Its 900 meters of dark steel moved out of the dock, Monarch able to spot the countless weapon emplacement on its hull. He sped forward, now his time was double limited. The HUD was ruined and glitching, he would need to eyeball it. Turning and gaining height Monarch flew a curve, finger ready on the release button for the main hatch, pressing it in the right moment to release the powerful bomb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled the jet around, pushing the throttle to max, and fled the scene, counting down the two minutes in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&lt; </span>
  <em>
    <span>Krusjev, engage the pilot with the Domain, THAT'S AN ORDER. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Fool, as of now this boat no longer belongs to the Federation. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; What? &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; You heard my right lapdog, go run to your masters before we destroy your precious </span>
  </em>
  <span>Takatau with this vessel. Magan will be free. FOR THE MIA.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; FUCK! THIS! SHIT! Indigo, I repeat engage the Crown NOW, THAT'S AN ORDER. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Understood, we will engage the pilot. Indigo Team Formation 2. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One minute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Indigo Leader, we got a good lock on him. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Switch to Squadron mode and verify lock &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>30 seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Squadron mode verified &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Do not let him escape. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>10 seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Launch. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lock-on warning hailed in Monarch's ears, the ace pilot pulling up into the clouds in an attempt to shake it off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>5 seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;&lt; Lock is stable. &gt;&gt;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lock-on sounds persistent and Monarch moved his hand to the flare button.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>3 seconds...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>2... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>1…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>0…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch waited, but with every second passing, he grabbed the controls a little tighter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had failed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bomb had not ignited, it was a dud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Had it been hit, the ignition been damaged? This and a thousand different reasons went through his head as he realized what had happened, enough of his focus was spent that he pressed the flare button a little too late. The plane was a little too damaged, turning a little too slow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did not evade it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The missile exploded on his right, showering the Starlight with shrapnel, tearing through its brittle exterior and into the engine. Monarch's head rang once again, his view a dark grey filled with bright stars, as he tumbled through the clouds, unable to orient himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Prez...”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I am sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward walked onto the bridge of the Absolute Domain, glancing at the lavishness around him. The Feds had this weird obsession with spending as much money as possible on their prestigious projects, even if it added little to their effectiveness. The bridge seemed fitting for a spaceship, like it had jumped out of one of those Science Fiction Shows into reality. Soft blue lights and modern surfaces, minimal architecture, and high-end displays and bridge controls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man standing beside the chair in the middle of the large space, Captain Krusjev, seemed like someone from an era long gone, clad in an overly fashionable uniform hung with medals and decorations, a huge beard, even more impressive than Woodward's own facial hair, hid the lower part of his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admiral Woodward”, he welcomed the Cascadians walking onto the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please”, Woodward rose a hand. “My father was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Admiral Woodward</span>
  </em>
  <span>, call me Captain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well, Captain. As per our agreement with the CIF, we will hand over the Absolute Domain and if I might add...”, his mouth twisted into a smile. “...I was skeptical of your man’s abilities, but damn, he pulled off quite the show. To think there is a single pilot capable of so much...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Without his distractions, we would have never been able to get our men on board.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is true”, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is the Domain ready to submerge? I want the Feds off our tail as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is ready, but we need to leave and get into deeper waters. Despite all her strengths, the Domain’s size is not one.” Krusjev stepped away from the chair and offered it to Woodward. “The Domain is yours to command.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward slumped down onto the padded chair, enjoying the feeling of soft leather beneath him. If the federation's wastefulness was good for anything, it was for their comfortable seats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All ahead full, prepare to descend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun was already setting on Prospero and still, nothing new was known. Monarch had suddenly disappeared from the radar and not shown up since. Prez had begun to worry, she had been sitting in the command center and through the findings of her research. Superheavy swim dock Atlant, ordered to Magadan one year ago to work on a super-secret project. Its exact location was unknown, but there were only so many places to hide such a large floating facility.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had wanted to discuss her findings with Monarch before it was made official that he had disappeared. The thought he might have joined Woodward had crossed her mind but was quickly pushed aside. He would never do something like that, she was sure of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Galaxy burst into the room, face red and teeth clenched. His eyes, full of fury were looking around the room until he spotted Prez. “Captain, get the techs on the trucks now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jumped up and ran after him. “Did something happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Starlight has crashed 120 kilometers north of here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Mo...the Major, is he okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't know, you drive up there and collect all of the wreckage. If possible I want no details to be revealed to the public.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The wheel of worry spun in Prez’s mind, as she drove to the hospital Monarch was treated at. Information about his status and location were secret, but Galaxy was nice enough to give it to her without too much hassle, once she had finished scouring the countryside for plane pieces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had not been a crash, but it had not been a landing either. 60% of the Starlight was still attached to the main frame, which has carved a long scar into some poor farmers' field. The other 40% were evenly distributed between the corn and collecting all had been a nightmarish task, especially at night, with flashlights and flood lamps to shine ugly white light into the darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now she was running 30 hours without sleep, but she needed to visit him, see for herself the state he was in. There had been so much blood in what remained of the cockpit...so much red soaked into the seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She parked in front of the modern, white building and walked up to the registration. Could she see Mr. Scherer? No she was not family. CIF, this is military business. Something, she did not remember what, worked in the end and Prez made her way to Monarchs room. As she turned into the hallway, she was delighted to see a familiar face. The two guards in front of Monarchs room were old Sicario Ronin operatives. The one with an Oni face mask turned her head, spotting Prez approaching. Being one of the survivors of the Presidia Incident had left its marks on her, the left side of her face scarred by burns, but her eyes were as energetic as always. They nodded at each other, Oni opening the door for the mechanic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Prez saw inside was worse than anything she imagined. She expected Monarchs body, burned and bandaged, connected to a variety of life support machines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did not expect Monarch, wearing sweatpants and a “Fish fear me, Women want me”-shirt at least two sizes too large, eating yoghurt from a cup. He turned around towards the door, mouth open and spoon halfway inside, eyes lighting up as he recognized her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez’s eyes quickly scanned him, but the only injury she could spot was a ugly wound across his forehead, splitting his right eyebrow apart, patched up, the edges stitched together with fine thread.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wheel of worry switched between worry, anger, relief in an instant, before it came to a screeching halt at anger. She approached him, pulling him into a hug so strong Monarch started wheezing and she could hear his spine crack a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am glad to see you are okay.”, she said, wiping away the single tear running down her cheek, then released him. “Now...you better start explaining yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ehm...No.” Monarchs' features hardened as he put down the cup of yoghurt onto a nearby table, flinching in pain as he moved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You had nothing to do with it and it's better we keep it that way.” He explained. “I disobeyed orders, engaged enemy forces without permission and got the Starlight destroyed, Kaiser is probably going to be very pissed once he gets to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was at a loss for words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s set aside the ‘work’ problems you and I might face,” she hissed, already feeling her face turning a stronger shade of red, not that she could do much about it. ”Ever crossed your mind that I might have personal objections to you risking your life?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was I not the lynchpin of whatever plan you were cooking up, researching Fed shipyards? Would that not be risking my life?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez bit her lower lip, trying to stop herself from shouting some very strong swears. The feeling of wanting to hug him, crying, and wanting to slap him fought in her head. She sighed. “I’m just tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat down in a chair next to the hospital bed and slumped down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It all doesn't matter anyways,” Monarch added, voice quiet, thinking about how he had lost. His first real loss in a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez frowned, trying to meet his gaze, but he looked away, out the window on the far side of the room at the disappearing sun. They remained quiet, watching the sky turn a deep orange before the sun disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand moved to his face, delicately tracing the wound with her thumb. He twitched but did not move away. It started all the way down at his jawbone, going up, missing the eye continuing at the brow, splitting it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did that happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Piece of shrapnel. Angled slightly differently, it would have slashed my eye in half.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got hit anywhere else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monarch fidgeted on the bed, pointing at his left leg.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Went straight through.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez averted her gaze, her head spinning. Standing up, she flatly said, “I’m going to see where someone can get some coffee here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you get me a hot chocolate?” She rolled her eyes in annoyance, but relented. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No promises.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Prez wandered the empty hallways of the hospital in desperate search for a source of caffeine she was surprised the second time today. It took her a second to recognize them, but Dip and Comic were sitting in the hospital's waiting area. Comic was leaning back in her chair, seemingly sleeping, while Diplomat was wearing headphones, smiling as she spotted her approaching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two hugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice beard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look pretty good yourself, working out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, started as part of physical therapy and kept it up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two parted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>told us a little about what happened, how are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prez sighed. “Medically, I am fit, but Presidia still hurts in other ways.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what you are talking about.”, Diplomat pulled up his sleeve, revealing a badly healed scar on his right forearm. “Sliced up my arm trying to escape the hell on the ground.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And she?” Prez pointed at Comic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tries to be fine, but she sleeps bad, has nightmares.” Dip looked worried at the sleeping woman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...you two?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled. “How did that happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about we go find some coffee first and then I’ll tell you our life story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arnold Franken, also known as Kaiser, marched through the mostly empty hallways flanked by heavily armed operatives, a grim look on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait outside.”, he told the soldiers, as he entered the room of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Imperator-</span>
  </em>
  <span>Asset, the men taking up casual positions in front of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kaiser took a look at the man sitting in a chair in front of the window, his view stopping at his ridiculous shirt, before he began to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Monarch, we need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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